Riddick
by thoraxe357
Summary: He was ostricized by the very people he was destined to protect and sent to Azkaban. However, they never imaginged that sending Harry Potter away would create something much darker, and a helluva lot more badass. H/Hr
1. Prologue: Escape!

**A/N:** THis is an idea i've come with after reading a couple stories that follow the same general idea. THe two I've read were either 1) sloppily written or 2) abandoned. I hope that I can put my plans to paper in a way that will appeal to everyone. This is a test chapter. Like it, love it, hate it? send me a review and tell me what you think and if I should continue it.

**Prologue: Escape**

_I've been in this place for three to four years. Normally, a guy who's seen as much as I have would've completely lost his mind in the first year. But me... heh... I've just learned to call it 'home'. It's actually interesting to note that the constant wails of destroyed souls can be rather comforting. Not for much longer, though._

_Everybody assumes that I've waisted away like all these other pathetic fools. That's fine... let 'em. It'll make it all the more entertaining to see their faces when I scram. Got a few people to visit when I get out._

_Still remember that bloody arsehole Ron from the trial, or whatever the fuck that atrocity was. Thought he was there to defend me in front of the so-called 'judges'. Should've expected that jealous little prick would fuck me over in the end. Him and his little slut of a sister spewed all kinds of shit so that they could 'justify' sending me here. Was incredibly surprising to see no help from the rest of the Weasleys. Closest thing I had to a family just abandoned my ass. Except for the twins of course... always liked those jokers._

_More than likely they were promised most of my money by that goat-fucker Dumbledore. Fat lot of good that'll do. Nobody expected me to learn from my encounter in the graveyard. Old fart never would have thought that his little weapon would have suspected him. Managed to sneak away to Gringotts before the shit hit the fan._

_Main reason I've managed to keep my mind was her. Won't ever forget her crying my name and heartfelt promises of help as they dragged me away. Doesn't matter. Not even the smartest witch of our generation can do anything against our corrupt leaders. That's okay... I'll see her again soon._

_Ah... there goes the guard on his pointless rounds. Stupid gits don't even pay any attention to any of us. Guess they figure we're all to gone to be a threat. They never even register the draw on their magic as they pass me. So dependent on the magic suppression wards encompassing every cell that they don't even imagine that I can still use magic. This poor little fucker drew the short straw to have to be here tonight. Managed to top off my magic from his measly core. Little push of energy to the door and I'm gone..._

--oo00HPR00oo--

"Can't believe I got stuck with Azkaban duty again! I hate this place." muttered Steven Monki as he returned to the guard station after his rounds.

Steven's professional life was at an all time low. Straight out of auror training he was chosen as the proverbial bitch by his peers and superiors. He was constantly being saddled with crap assignments. The security desk at the ministry of magic, guard duty for a few of the lowest ranking members of the Wizengamot, and not to mention all of the idiotic crank calls received by his department every day. Add in the constant mispronunciation of his last name, 'like its so fucking hard to say Moan-keye', and you have a shitty job experience.

Then you throw in the repeated duty of guarding the wizard prison. Steven just couldn't understand why, in a prison full of happiness devouring creatures where only one man had ever escaped, a constant auror presence was required. The sheer lack of necessity for his attendance pissed him off more than the fact that this cold sore of an assignment all but ruined any chance of a social life. Really, the poor guy hadn't had a date since the start of his training four and a half years ago.

A slight sound caused Steven to jerk his eyes around. His wand leveled on nothing but dark hallway as a shiver passed up his spine.

"Place gives me the creeps."

"Won't for much longer." rumbled a voice from behind him. He spun and froze in fear as he saw a pair of cold, silver-green eyes. Steven knew of this man. Once known as the savior of the wizarding world, this teenager was forced to suffer through even more ridicule from the aurors than even Steven himself. That is, until, he repeatedly found some way to kill anyone who messed with him. Arrogant aurors and heckling prisoners alike kept winding up with sharpened implements lodged in some vital spot. This continued until he finally succumbed to the dementors' effects... apparently. He had earned a new name during his brief and bloody spree...

"Riddick!" was all Steven could say before a sharpened chunk of iron bar eviscerated his jugular.


	2. Chapter 1: contact

**A/N:** Holy SHit! twenty four reviews for one chapter. I gotta say that I wasn't expecting anywhere near this amount of feed back. And all positive two. You made this chapter that much harder to write, people. Now I'm scared it's not gonna live up to your expectations. Oh well... I guess we'll see. Here we go will...

**Contact**

Hermione Granger walked, sullenly, from the head of the DMLE's office. She had once again brought any evidence she could find of Harry Potter's innocence forth to Amelia Bones, only to be regretfully informed again that no good could be done. Madame Bones was a stout supporter of Hermione's agenda, but no higher ups would even hear the evidence.

Hermione slumped through the British ministry of magic towards the public entrance, intent on walking home to clear her head. She was so focused on her own memories, she didn't even acknowledge the panicked young auror that ran into the office as she left.

--oo00Flashback00oo--

Harry and Hermione were sitting within the Grimmauld place family library, scouring books to find anything to help him in his underage use of magic hearing the next day. Ever since Harry had arrived at his godfather's house after the dementor attack, Hermione had barely left his side.

"There has to be something!" exclaimed a frustrated Hermione, not used to being failed by her books.

"We've looked as hard as we can." replied Harry quietly. "It would help if Ron was here to help. We could use the extra pair of eyes."

Ron had opted to stay at the Burrow with his family until school had started. At first, this had come as a shock to the other two, but they eventually accepted his decision...

"Bloody prat!" somewhat... "I can't belive that Ron would abandon you when you needed him AGAIN!"

"Hermione, he wanted to spend to time with his family. Come on, he's barely seen them over the last few years." Harry said placating the girl.

"Neither have I, but I'm still here!"

With a quiet and heartfelt word of thanks, Harry led the still fuming Hermione out of the library and upstairs to her room (not now people... maybe later). After a quick 'night' he left her to go to bed.

--oo00End Flashback00oo--

The next day she had ventured with Harry, escorted by auror and order member Nymphadora Tonks, to courtroom ten within the ministry. They arrived only for her to be told that she couldn't attend the hearing. She waited for forty-five minutes until the doors slammed open. Her hopeful smile vanished as she saw all of the Weasleys, minus Fred and George, exit with haughty grins plastered on their faces. Before she could even ask about their presence, two burly aurors had dragged an almost comatose Harry from the room.

She remembered screaming promises to Harry as he was hauled off. Tears still stung her eyes as she recalled the haunted look he threw her. It hadn't taken long to realize that the red-headed family had betrayed him for some reason. She had broken off all communication with them shortly after and had spent her last few years in Hogwarts as an outcast. When not doing homework, she was trying to find out the court proceedings and any way to prove Harry's innocence, just to be blocked by everyone from Ron to Dumbledore.

Recently she'd started pleading to any high position that would listen to her. The aurors, the DMLE, even the minister had been approached with no results.

"I hope the articles I sent to the papers will get some results." she muttered, ignoring a sound resembling something akin to a 'Hurk' that came from someone behind her.

"You know..." rumbled a voice, gravelly from obvious disuse, from a side alley. "bad things can happen to pretty young women when they walked down deserted streets."

Hermione whipped around, her wand pointing between a pair of shining silver-green eyes. Whomever the eyes belonged to remained in shadow from whatever angle she tried to see from. All she could view was a very faint outline.

"You should really be more attentive." the stranger rumbled, flashing his eerie glance back down her previous path. She looked to see two blood trails and a slumped body resting in a pile of garbage bags. A closer look showed that the man was an unspeakable.

"But, why..." she asked, turning back to the alley. She stopped when she realized that those hauntingly familiar green eyes were gone.

--oo00HPR00oo--

_Escaping that prison was ridiculously easy. Fuckin' dementors stopped paying attention to me a year ago. I've buried my feelings, taking away their interest. And with only one guard, there weren't any other... complications. Actually surprised those soul-suckers haven't joined Riddle. Ministry probably offered 'em something better. Don't know... or care._

_Being without a wand for five years has given me monumental control of my magic. Good thing, too. Waters surrounding the island are fuckin' freezing. Especially when ya gotta swim for miles to reach the mainland. Could've apparated if I'd known how. Could never really practice any kinda teleportation in Azkaban while playin the pathetic subdued criminal. If I've pegged the ministry's incompetency right, the bloody morons wouldn't have known there was a breakout till the morning shift arrived about two hours ago. Probably **just** realized it was me. After all, why would they suspect a man who's shown no sign of free will for the last four years. _

_DMLE will more than likely be getting the message 'bout now. Saw an owl with Azkaban's seal fly in around two minutes ago. With the prison's seal, an auror will have to personally fetch the message. Heard that little tidbit from one of the guards patrolling the cell blocks. _

_That's not the reason I'm here, though. I know **she's** here. The last letter told me she'd been trying to appeal my case for years and that she'd be trying again this morning. I'm truly sorry I couldn't answer her letters, but I had to play the good little vegetable and 'ignore' them. _

_I can tell she's upset by her stride as she leaves the building. Probably turned away again. Can't help but love the girl when she tries so hard to help me, even when its a hopeless cause. Didn't take long for me to realize my feelings when she was one of the only people I thought about without an intense blood lust. Soul suckers had fun with me the first few weeks after I figured it out. Bloody aurors didn't make it any easier. Kept telling me I was was ridiculous for crying over a mudblood. Eventually the brain dead fucks decided that was to be my new name. That, in turn, got shortened to Riddick after every man who said the name was killed before that could get past 'ridic'. Figured that sounded pretty damn cool so I came up with a new spelling. Low and behold, I went from Harry Potter to Riddick. May seem corny... but it works. _

_Whatever she's thinking about has gotten her distracted. She hasn't even noticed the little shits tailing her from the building. They're walking apart from each other, single file, in an attempt to appear inconspicuous. Shoulder patches id 'em as unspeakables. Didn't peg that group for pureblood lackeys, but I've obviously been wrong about people before. Don't really care why they're being so careful to hide from her, but the fact that they are hiding is enough to piss me off. _

_Bloody prats don't even know I'm here. I take the guy at the the back of their little procession out first. Sneak up behind him and palm his wand from his back pocket. Smart on his part. Before he even knows it's gone, I bring it back around his head and slam it into the fucker's eye. Gotta be sure it does the job so I drive it in until the tip hits the back of his skull. Drag him into the shadows so nobody will notice. After I dislodge the wand from the fucker's eye socket, I snap in in half. Who's next? _

_Don't feel like giving the next guy as much time to react. As I get behind him, I swing my arms out in a wide arc, broken ends of the wand pointed in. Without a sound, I bring my fists in, driving the jagged ends into the guy's temples. Pathetic little lapdog didn't even know he was dead before I'm dragging his body out of site. _

_Grabbing the bottom of a broken bottle, I over take the last guy. Manage to get ahead of him without being spotted. As soon he comes within arm's reach, my hand shoots out and latches over his mouth. He manages to get out a slight 'Hurk' before I jerk his face away from me and pull his back into my chest. In the same movement, I bring my other fist around and back across his throat. Severing is jugular with a jagged piece of bottle isn't the quickest or the most pleasant way to die, but he shouldn't have been tailing 'Mione. I make sure I hold his mouth until the stops struggling then I drag him off to the side. Need to let her know of her tail so I leave the prick in a pile of garbage bags in plain site. Fitting. _

_Manage to slide into a side alley in in her path. Not quite ready to show her I'm out yet, but I need to talk to her. _

"_You know..." I say. She spins faster than I thought. Got her wand leveled between my eyes. My girl's gotten better reflexes in the last five years. "bad things can happen to a pretty young women when they walk down deserted streets. _

_A little light manipulation keeps all but my eyes indistinguishable. She squints, trying to see who I am. Not today, luv. I throw my gaze to the guy in the garbage. As she gives him a closer look I hightail it. Swear I hear her say something, but I ignore it. Got someone else to visit tonight. _

--oo00HPR00oo--

Auror Ronald Billius Weasley was not a happy man. After Harry Potter's trial, him and his family were promised the prat's money. They had all agreed, except for the twins. Those two trouble makers had gone on and on for weeks about the 'betrayal' of Potter. After his incarceration, they'd left home and started a joke shop. For the last five years they had done remarkable business, but still refused to talk to the rest of the family.

As for the money, the rest of the Weasleys had later found out that Potter had locked down his vault from all but him and the Goblins. As long as he was alive, no one aside from those two parties could so much as look at the door of the vault. Ron had needed that money to bypass the prerequisite three years of auror training and acquire a high ranking job, as any good pureblood would do. With out the bribe money, he had been forced to sweat through the training and had just recently graduated from the academy.

It figured that Potter would have taken the cash as well. Even locked up, the fucker had everything. Women still wanted him, even more now that he was a "bad boy". He was still famous, and he still had tons of Gold.

The biggest rub, however, was Hermione. Ron had expected her to turn to him for comfort when Potter was locked up, but no. She became obsessed with freeing him. Because it was her, she figured out Ron and his family's part in Harry's incarceration and had cut off all contact. His grades had suffered and had almost cost him his future auror position. He got payback though. Through his new found connections in Slytherin, who were very happy about his removal of Harry, he managed to completely black list the uppity little bookworm. Even after Hogwarts, she continued on her idiotic mission, no matter what anyone said.

Ron's musings were interrupted as an alarm sounded. He followed his fellow aurors to the auditorium, asking anyone who would acknowledge him what the emergency was. He had been a very unpopular member of the force since day one. After the news of Potter's incarceration was released and he was named as a key witness, his fellow aurors had steered clear of him. It's not like they believed Harry innocent, but none of them agreed with selling out your best mate.

Ron entered the briefing chamber, none the wiser as to the situation, and found a place to sit. Head auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and head of the DMLE, Madame Bones, approached the podium and all noise stopped.

"Ladies and gentlemen..." began Shacklebolt. "We received a missive from Azkaban this morning. It seems that a prisoner has escaped."

An excited buzz passed through the hall. Only the recently freed Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew having been temporarily captured and questioned almost a year ago, had ever escaped from Azkaban without the the destruction of the fortress.

"Who is it?" asked a voice from the back of the room.

"Recently he has been going by the name of Riddick..." Ron tensed up. He had heard of this man's story. "But he was originally called Harry Potter."

--oo00HPR00oo--

Returning to his dark cubicle, Ron was inwardly panicking at the thought of Harry loose. He knew of Riddick's story. How everyone who pissed him of by ridiculing him was killed. If that's what happened to those making fun of him, how would he treat someone who had betrayed him? Walking to his desk, Ron noticed a strange mark burned into the wood. Looking closer, he saw it was a lightning bolt.

"See you've managed to survive..." came a gravelly voice from what seemed like everywhere in the room. Ron spun around, trying to find the source. Seeing nothing, he took a deep breath and turned back to his desk. What he saw made his blood run cold. It was a message that read...

_See you soon, mate._

**A/N:** I gotta thank my bud, FatticusXL, for the idea with Harry's contact with Ron. He's got a couple stories out if anyone wants to read 'em. I believe that he may be having a couple problems finding his stories outside of his profile page so, if anyone can't find it, check my favorite authors for his name.


	3. Chapter 2: Where are they now?

**A/N**: Following the suggestion made by kajlima, this chapter focuses mainly on ohter characters. Never fear, though, Harry does make an appearance and we see a familiar face. You know him... You hate him... He sould've taken the money... Ladies and Gentlemen! Its ... well, if you didn't know by now, you'll just have to wait and see.

**Where are they now?**

Arthur Weasley sat at his desk in the misuse of muggle artifacts office, pondering previous times where his family was together and happy. He remembered when his children were carefree, playing around the crooked structure that was the Burrow. He chuckled as the hi jinks of the twins sprang to mind. Everything from stealing cookies from the kitchen to sticking his youngest son's bed in a tree while he was still sleeping in it. He never did figure out how they did it. Ronald was always a favorite target for Fred and George. Or was it George and Fred?

His big, happy family had shattered the day of Harry Potter's trial. He'd sat there as witness, not lifting a finger to stop the incarceration of the young man he considered a son in all but blood. The testimonies against Harry had come hard and fast, driving more and more nails into his proverbial coffin. The boy didn't even get a chance to defend himself in front of all of the startling accusations. Arthur's inaction still plagued him to this day.

He'd never liked the idea of Harry's trial, but Dumbledore convinced him and his wife of the poor boy's 'guilt'. At First, Arthur steadfastly refused to believe that Harry had committed the alleged crimes, but the headmaster was adamant. So Mr. Weasley sat there and allowed his surrogate son to be imprisoned, all the while trying his best to ignore the sheer unfairness of the trial.

When he and his wife told their family of the situation, he had witnessed the eyes of his two youngest light up in anticipation. The twins, however, refused to accept the accusations. Even after he explained about Dumbledore's support of the trial, they still wouldn't agree to help. Then, the day of their seventeenth birthday, they'd left. A few weeks later, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was opened. Five years later, they had not only outstripped Zonko's joke shop, but bought their rival store. While Arthur was, of course, proud of his sons' success and that they used the family name, he was still upset that the twins had yet to send a letter or answer a letter to them from the rest of the family.

'At least they had the fortitude to stand for what they truly believed in.' he thought sullenly.

His eldest, Bill and Charlie, also wouldn't have anything to do with the trial. They refused, even after meeting Harry only once, to believe that he was guilty. These days, Arthur barely talked to them either. Poor Molly was constantly crying over the loss of five over her babies, including her babies. Ron, Ginny, and Percy still kept contact, though Arthur was constantly disappointed in their behavior. Ron had barely gotten accepted to the auror academy and he could be heard mumbling about "promised money" and "Fucking Potter". His daughter, Ginny, was hardly any better. After graduating, she'd attempted to get a spot on the all-woman quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies. After being turned away from it and every other team of any worth, she had resigned to working as an assistant in Olivander's wand shop until she could acquire a master in charms. She and Ron could be heard arguing over "Dumbledore's promise" and "locked up vaults" at the wee hours in the morning as they were still residing at home until their 'careers' got off the ground.

Yes, Arthur Weasley truly felt like the oh-so-clever insulting annotation of his name.

--oo00HPR00oo--

"... Weasel! That's right, ladies and gentlemen! Shock your friends and family with your very own mammoth multi-colored weasel! Patented by Ginger-Twin industries, our specially bred ferrets will bring joy to any house hold in these dark times of war! They love children and are completely house broken! Careful though, these little buggers tend to spit when over excited. Get 'em while you can, they're going fast! Only at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes!"

Fred (or was it George?) stepped down from the podium outside his and his brother's shop in Diagon Alley. Followed by a crowd of excited children, dragging their nervous parents behind them, Fred opened the doors to the shop and entered. As soon as the eager entered the shop, they swarmed the cage that held a bunch of four-foot long ferrets who were constantly shifting colors.

"Oi! George! (ah...so he **was** Fred.) We got some more customers!"

George Weasley popped his head from the back room. Seeing the crowd, he immediately sprung into action. The next two hours were a blur of sales as the weasel cage emptied.

As Fred plopped down at his desk in the back office after the rush, his mind wandered over the last five years.

When their parents told the family of Harry Potter's trial, he and George had steadfastly refused to even think Harry was guilty. When they were informed of their family's upcoming role, they were disgusted. As soon as they turned seventeen, they had immediately left the Burrow and set up an apartment on the top floor of a recently purchased building in Diagon Alley. It wasn't long after that, that the triple W was opened.

Five years had past since the the twins had so much as sent or answered a letter to or from their family. Every time Ron, Ginny, Arthur, Molly, or Percy was spotted, they were immediately turned away with no more than a harsh "Out!". The boys were of the firm belief that, no matter what Dumbledore said, Harry Potter would never commit the crimes that he was being accused of. In fact, the only reason they even kept the family name was so that they could, hopefully, redeem it in Harry's eyes.

Many members of the ministry were constantly wondering how Hermione Granger could afford to fund her campaign to free Harry potter while working in Flourish and Blotts, having refused every ministry position offered her upon graduation. What they didn't know was that the Weasley twins were, in fact, her financial support. The boys had tried again and again over the years to convince Hermione to just bust Harry out of Azkaban, but she was adamant on attaining his freedom legally. After five years, however, they knew that her patience was wearing thin, and had a plan for when she finally snapped.

Neither noticed a letter sitting on Fred's desk until after they'd closed the store that night. Seeing it as they were packing up the office for the night,George drew his brother's attention to it. Fred picked it up and, sharing a look with his brother, opened up where in they read...

_Thanks. Be seeing you soon, boys._

There was no name. However, both men knew who the letter was from as they say a jagged lightning bolt drawn under the message. Looking at each other with a mirrored shit-eating grin, they simultaneously stated...

"It's about bloody time!"

--oo00HPR00oo--

Albus Percival Wolfric Bryan Dumbledore, order of Merlin first class, supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, and headmaster of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry for years was a happy man. For, you see, he had just received a message from Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge stating that Harry Potter had escaped Azkaban.

Now, why would he be happy that the young man that he sentenced to hell on earth had broken out of the second most secure facility in Britain, you ask? Simple, really. It meant that his plan was finally coming to fruition.

From the day that James and Lily Potter were killed and Harry was confirmed as the prophesied savior of the wizarding world, he knew that the child would not be strong enough to kill Tom Riddle once and for all. This was the primary reason that he left Harry on the Dursleys' front step. Knowing how they felt about magic, Dumbledore theorized that they would abuse the boy.

Now, before we proceed, one fact should be addressed. Make no mistake about it, Albus Dumbledore was not an evil man. However, he is a manipulating, goat-fucking (no one ever **could** prove those accusations), ass-hole. You see, he planned on Harry becoming a cold and calculating young man that would do anything to survive. While he did believe that love was a powerful weapon, he was still a logical man. Love alone could not defeat the most feared dark lord in British wizarding history.

When young Harry Potter showed up to his first year at Hogwarts, however, Albus was painfully shocked to see a timid little boy. Never one to give up after a single failure, he proceeded to try and mold the boy from afar. He still had to be seen as the kind and wise grandfather, after all, so he couldn't openly harden the child.

He allowed Harry to uncover the secrets of the sorcerer's stone. He led the boy to the final goal, all the while giving hints and clues to help Potter reach the confrontation against Quirrel. Faced with the possessed man, Albus knew that Harry would be forced to kill his professor in one way or another to survive.

Second year was a blessing in disguise for his plans. The Chamber of Secrets debacle placed a twelve year old Harry Potter in yet another life or death situation and give him his first grand scale taste of the wizarding world's prejudice against anything remotely different. Of course, not even faced with his parents' real betrayer in third year did the boy show any signs of the necessary hardened heart.

When Harry appeared before the maze at the end of the final task crying over Cedric Diggory's body, Albus was left with only one course of action. His opportunity came when Harry was force to defend himself and his cousin from the dementors set upon him by the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, Delores Umbridge. At first, it was difficult to convince Molly and Arthur Weasley that it was, in fact, Harry himself that had killed Cedric. With sad words and subtle compulsion charms, he had their support. It came as a disappointment when four of their sons had refused to help, but with promises of Potter's money Ronald and Ginevra were more than willing to be rid of the scar-headed boy. Percival Weasley was already in the minister's pocket so he was not a problem. Since the others could be impeded easily, Dumbledore was confident that the rest of society would have no doubt of Potter's guilt with his surrogate family's testimonies against him. Rounded out with a distinct lack of a court transcript and the support of the minister of magic, Dumbledore was confident there would be no question.

He underestimated Hermione Granger. The meddlesome girl had been unrelenting in her pursuit of Harry's freedom. She'd gone through every law book that she could get her hands on and approached the head of every department in the ministry. Albus just hoped that Cornelius' unspeakables could remove that nuisance for the greater good.

With Harry in Azkaban, the headmaster was taking a huge gamble. He knew that one of two things would occur. Either Harry would become the cold survivor needed and escape, or he would be broken. After four years, Albus feared that his plan had failed. However, with the recent news, hope was restored.

Yes... its good when a plan comes together.

--oo00HPR00oo--

"What are you thinking about, love?"

Neville Longbottom smiled sadly and looked down into his wife's eyes. He'd met Luna Longbottom nee Lovegood in his fifth year at Hogwarts. Right away he knew that this was a special, if a bit odd, girl. They'd actually met in a 'study' group set up by Hermione Granger. It was, in reality, a group dedicated to freeing Harry Potter, for all the good it did.

During the 'study' sessions, Neville and Luna became closer. Her carefree attitude and often painfully forward observations coincided quite nicely with his shy and introverted demeanor. It was actually Luna that first asked Neville out, and he was thankful to this day. With Luna by his side, the quiet, slightly chubby, doormat of Hogwarts developed a spine. Not only did he develop said spine, but he also grew balls of titanium. After kicking Draco Malfoy's pale ass on several occasions, people learned not to fuck with him and his.

Currently, Neville was working as a part of a special unit within the department of mysteries. They were not unspeakables. In fact, they didn't even exist. The only people outside of the unit that knew of their existence was a high ranking member of the department that believed Harry Potter's innocence. Their highly classified purpose had been changed from proving Harry innocence to (shhh...) locating and eliminating every one of the dark lord's horcruxes.

Neville shivered at the thought of those horrid artifacts. They learned of their existence while questioning Dumbledore on Potter's trial. With a subtle dose of veritaserum, the headmaster opened up on his studies into Voldemort's past and continued life. After the unit vanished, Dumbledore was left with the knowledge that he could do nothing to a team that, technically, didn't exist. Using Dumbledore's initial data, and with extensive help of the Gringotts goblins, at a fee of course, the team had destroyed all but one of the suspected pieces of soul. They knew that it resided within Voldemort's snake (giggidy), Nagini, but with the lack of overt action with the exception of several raids, his location (and by extension hers) were unknown.

"Why ask when you already know?" he queried his wife playfully.

"Well... it is polite to ask every once in a while. Otherwise, I wouldn't need you for conversation." came the, as always, refreshingly blunt reply. Neville laughed heartily at his wife's choice of words. His Luna was what he liked to call a lyrical ninja. She could hit quickly and accurately out of nowhere, and you could never see it coming until it was too late.

The combination of Luna's deceptively deductive mind, coupled with a slight seer ability rendered a person who could figure out just about any secret. It hadn't taken her long to realize that Neville's job did not involve caring for dangerous creatures as he'd started out telling her. It'd taken even less time to break his resistance. Acting in her capacity as editor-in-chief of 'The Quibbler", Luna had actually discovered identities and locations of two of the horcruxes. "Investigative journalism" was all she would say when asked how.

Looking at her husband of two years, Luna again marveled at the brick shit house of a man (Thanks to seel'vor for the metaphor) that he'd become. It surprised many people from their Hogwarts years to see him now. To this day, she was grateful that she'd taken the initiative and asked him out in her fourth year. After dating for three years, he'd proposed on her seventeenth birthday and they'd been married three months later. Fred (or George) Weasley stood as his best man/men while Hermione was her maid of honor.

"Good day Mister Potter. I hope you are well." Neville stared at his wife in shock as she smiled serenely at a nearby tree in the field they were walking through.

"Who's the lady, Nev?" rumbled a deep and familiar voice. "I like her."

A man stepped from around the tree with a sly smile. Ragged robes adorned his broad shoulders, covering an olive green muscle shirt and black pants. The cloak looked like it'd been through a blender. All that was left of the sleeves were sparse tatters hanging over well muscled arms. The front looked though it'd been cut open with dull knife. Jagged edges of cloth dangled from either side, accentuating the overall dangerous appearance.

Neville barely noticed the clothes, however, for it was the eyes that held his attention. Deep green depths radiated from the orbs, shining with a silvery sheen. The looked like a cat's eyes when light is shined on them. Neville knew those eyes, and was shocked to find them full of life, if a bit haunted, after Azkaban. Breaking the lock, his gaze drifted up to the man's forehead. Shaggy black hair slightly obscured a jagged lightning bolt-shaped scar over his right eye.

"H-harry?" he stammered, gazing up and down the man's tightly muscled body. While it couldn't be said that Harry was bulky, his form shifted with the lean strength of a jungle cat, observing potential prey.

"Been a long time, Nev."

--oo00HPR00oo--

Rain poured from the sky over the bustling city. The clouds seemed to be intentionally pelting the cloaked and hooded man standing on one of the roofs, waiting for something. A piton shot from a nearby building, digging into the cement into the cement between the man's feet. The cord attached to the piton dipped as another man descended down the line on some kind of handled wheel.

"Muggles." spat the cloaked man as his associate joined him. The new arrival looked like a reject from an American action movie, with several weapons strapped to various points on his lean body. The man's curly hair shook as he landed, cascading water down over his thick sideburns and goatee.

"I'm here, so what's the job?" questioned the armed man brashly in a raspy American accent. His cloak companion handed over a picture and a wad of bills.

"Your target's name is Riddick, a.k.a. Harry Potter. You are to eliminate him. That's half of your payment. You'll get the other half when Potter's dead. I trust you **can** kill him... **can't** you Mr. Toombs?"

A scoff was the only reply as the mercenary turned and leaped from the roof. As a pair of wings sprang from a pack on Toombs' back, a flash of lightning illuminated the cloaked man a single strand of red hair that fell from the dark hood.

**A/N**: and there you have it! I just want to send a shout out to my bud, FatticusXL and my mother/beta, Library Witch. Both have wicked stories you gotta see. And, seeing as its Librarywitch's birthday tommorrow(the 28th), why don't ya'll send her a review and wish her a happy b-day. Thanks people and stay cool.


	4. Chapter 3: First contact

**First Contact**

_Was actually nice catching up with Neville. I'm glad he's grown into himself. He was kind of a pussy in school. He told me about what he does in department of mysteries. Figures Tomboy would go to such extremes to stay alive. At least it explains my connection to Willy the snake lover. Apparently he made me a 'horcrux' the night he killed my parents._

_For all the bloody good that'll do him. Two years into my stint in Azkaban, I found a clump of energy attached to my scar. Actually, it's cause of that that that I'm as connected to my magic as I am._

_Whatever. I'm sittin in this throne room for a reason. Didn't take me long to find Riddle's hideout, or whatever the bloody hell he calls it, thanks to that connection. Could take him out and be done with it, but I think he deserves to feel the fear he's so proud of spreading. I'm just here to ghost that snake and let him know I'm back. The wards were strong, but thanks to all that siphoning of magic I did in the slam, I've gotten a new skill. Using the same process, I can create a magical dead zone within anywhere up to fifteen feet around me. Magical senses, ward, even spells of all kinds fail. Which is why Riddle doesn't know I'm here...yet._

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

Tom Marvollo Riddle, aka the Dark Lord Voldemort, was on top of the world. Even **he** had been surprised to see Harry Potter imprisoned. However, that meant that the only person capable of defeating him was rotting away in Azkaban. Sure, he'd been tempted to use the boy's likely anger to recruit him, but decided that the risk for betrayal was too great.

Now, with no chance of defeat, he was on easy street. An occasional raid, a few dark marks here and there, and everybody was paralyzed with fear. After a raid on the ministry for him to recover the prophecy pertaining to him, he'd been outed. Now, with the knowledge of his return, the wizarding world was constantly watching their backs. His minions were subtly infiltrating the ministry. Five years after his return, he all but ruled the country. Another year or two, and he would. With Potter eliminated, there was no need to rush.

As the Dark Lord was contemplating his many victories, every torch in his throne room was suddenly extinguished. Reigniting the flames, he looked for the reason. What he saw was his familiar, Nagini. Or rather, he saw her headless body.

Stepping down to the long form, he didn't noticed the shadow that passed behind him. Something compelled him to turn back to his grand throne. What he saw filled him with a fear he'd not felt in decades.

Resting on his seat was Nagini's head. As he slowly approached, jagged writing became visible, carved into the scaly hide.

_And that makes seven. We'll finish this eventually Tom-a-hack, but_

_for now, enjoy what life you have left._

The fear gripping Voldemort's cold heart intensified as he saw the lightning bolt engraved underneath the note. Now panicking, he apparated away to check his horcruxes.

He would be severely disappointed.

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

Dragging into her flat after a busy day Hermione once again thought back to those eyes in the alley. It'd been a week since she'd seen them, but they kept invading her mind. Only one man of her acquaintance had eyes remotely like that.

'But there's no way. He's still in Azkaban.'

Just thinking about Harry again filled her with an immense sadness. Sighing Deeply, she strolled over to a battered Hogwarts school trunk. She'd kept all of the contents, barring Harry's Firebolt which was given to his Godfather.

Now, five years later, everything was in the exact same condition. On lonely nights, which were most nights for her, she'd open the trunk and simply hold one of the objects contained within. Her favorite was Harry's old invisibility cloak, which still held the smell she loved so much.

Hermione could still remember the moment she'd fallen in love with her best friend. It was at the end of their second year. She'd woken up from having been petrified by the basilisk and made her way, after a much needed stop at the bathroom, to the the Great Hall. The second she'd locked on to those green eyes, followed quickly by being locked in the attached arms, her heart had shown her the truth. For the next two years, she'd been too afraid of his rejection to tell him. Of course, intense regret immediately followed Harry to Azkaban, where'd he'd been to far gone to tell him.

With renewed regret, she opened the trunk. However, where the cloak usually rested (right on top), a note resided.

_Hey 'Mione. I really wish I could talk to you, but I got a couple more 'errands' to run before I can give you my full attention. Thanks for keeping my stuff safe. As you can see, I've taken the cloak. Got a plan for it. There's something I want you to think about before we see each other face to face. It didn't take much self-examination while in Azkaban to realize this fact. I love you. I don't know exactly when it started, but its there. You always the one by my side. You've helped me through so much. I can only hope that you can feel the same for me, but I'll stay by you either way. I can't wait to see you again, as a friend or more. _

_All my love,_

_Harry_

Hermione Granger cried tears of joy and sorrow. Joy because of Harry's love and apparent freedom. Sorrow for the lost time and approaching hardships. One thing. One thing stood firm, however. There was no bloody fucking way in hell she was going to let her man go again.

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

Hunt Log: day 7

Been on the trail for a week. This 'Riddick' cat knows how to cover his ass. Me and my team started at that Azkaban dump. One of the creepiest fucking places I've ever seen. When I took the job, that British prick warned me that I'd see strange things. Of course, I thought magic was a bunch of smoke-and-mirrors bullshit. Who wouldn't. Now, I'm not to sure.

I contacted some of my shadier intel sources for anything they could get. As it turns out, one of the tea-suckers was a wizard. Go figure. Anyway, I managed to get some info on this 'Harry Potter'. Kid was supposed to be the savior of the wizarding world. Around his fourth year, whatever that means, at school he was charged with killing another student. Probably snapped under all the pressure.

Whatever. I don't really give a shit why he's wanted as long as I'm paid.

Hunt log: Day 14

Really gettin' sick of this fucking country. Seems like every time I'm stuck outside for one reason or another it starts raining. We've been posted outside the apartment of some dame named Hermione Granger. Weird ass name. Gotta say, though, she's a pretty little 'un. She's supposed to be Riddick's best friend. The only reason we're still here is cause we spotted the little fucker here three days ago. He managed to disappear before we could get a tail on him.

But, see that this is the only real lead, I'm gonna stay for another few days before we move on.

Ah...and there we go.

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

_Know I shouldn't still be here. I've gotten the cloak and left the note, so I should be gone. I just had to see her reaction to my message. Can't believe she saved my stuff. Neville told she was really fond of the cloak, but I got plans for it._

_Here she is. Damn, she does look depressed. I want nothing more than to hold her, but I can't just yet. She's opened the trunk and there's the note. Why the fuck's she crying? Hmm...I'll figure this out later. Got some company._

_**--**_**oo00HPR00oo**_**--**_

The five man team slowly and quietly made their way to the apartment from different angles. The goal was to cut off any escape route for their target. The man called Toombs watched the approach from his vantage point on a nearby building. He'd hand picked the team for this job, so he was confident.

"Check in." he whispered into the microphone clipped to his ear.

"One. No sign yet." came a female's voice.

"Two. Still moving in." rumbled a deep African bass.

"Three. Alight." Toombs rolled his eyes at the wannabe 'gangsta' he'd found in Sweden.

"..."

"Five? Where are ya, five?" Toombs commanded when the final member didn't check in. "Two. See where the hell five went."

"..."

"Two! Goddammit! Check in everyone."

"..."

"You made three mistakes." came a deep voice from behind him. Toombs stiffened and waited for an opening. "One...you took the job. Two...you came light. A five man team? Not a single witch or wizard? Fuckin' insulting. And three...?"

Toombs spun, drawing his side arm. All he was given was a broken wrist, a cold piece of steel pressed against his throat, and a pair of silver-green eyes.

"...you let me get close. Now, who do we have here?"

"Toombs. Mercenary." he grunted, choosing to cooperate for now.

"Toombs...fitting. No my little merc...who hired you to track me?"

"Don't know. Never saw his face. I'm pretty sure he was a wizard, though, if those stupid ass robes were a hint. British...thats it."

"Hmmm..." came the accepting reply. "Well, here's what we're gonna do, mate. I'm gonna let you go, and you're gonna give this job up. That way, we're both happy. Sound good to you."

Without waiting for a reply, the blade vanished from the merc's throat, along with the target. Toombs looked out over the neighborhood, rubbing his neck.

"This ain't over yet, Riddick."


	5. Chapter 4: Reunion

**Reunion**

"Shit!" declared auror Nymphadora Tonks as she ducked underneath another Avada Kedavra. Rolling behind an over turned table, she sent spell after spell at the horde of death eaters.

"It figures..." she muttered as more spells splashed against her make-shift shield. "One of the order is finally here **before** a DE raid, and no one else will bloody show up to the call."

"Now now, little cousin..." tutted ex-fugitive Sirius Black as he dove to her side. "skepticism such as that doesn't befit a member of the most noble house of Black."

"Which would be a problem if I was a Black. My mum was disowned, remember?"

"Oh...right. Remind me to remedy that."

Growling, Tonks sent another volley across the deserted picnic ground. The two had been enjoying a quiet bit of family time when the raid had begun. This had been the norm lately. Death Eaters would attack random muggle areas to instill fear in the populace. Usually they would trash the place and leave, but this time they'd been met with obvious resistance.

"Why the fuck haven't I quit Dumbledore's little social club?" Demanded the pick-haired young woman, staring at her cousin.

"'Cause you're the only bloody source of their info that we have. Me and Mooney can't stand to be around Dumbles after what he did to Harry."

"Yeah, but why does it have to be me? I don't like what he did either."

"I know, but **we** still have more of a con..." Sirius was cut off as a large explosion shook the ground. The two peeked over the edge of the battered table to see the DE ranks strewn around a large crater. A cursory glance showed around half of the twenty-strong raiding part had vital areas of their persons blown off.

"What the bloody hell?"

Before an answer could come, the remaining raiders struggled to their feet and start tossing curses desperately. The spells, however, were aimed in random directions. It was like they were valiantly attacking an invisible opponent.

"They've lost their damn minds!" laughed Tonks.

"I'm not too sure..." Sirius replied as he saw the jugular of one of the masked men seem to open itself.

As they watched, the spells stopped flying even though the eaters still shouted the incantations. They saw more than one of the raiding party spin on their heels or grip pendants around their necks. When no one disappeared through apparation or portkey, panic began to set in.

That panic escalated as a new person faded into view. The man was draped in ragged roes and held two vicious-looking blades. Each knife was curved forward like a raptor's talons, the serrated inner edges dripping brilliant red blood. Sirius and Tonks were able to make out a head of messy black hair as the man dashed forward.

The two closest death eaters raised their wands as the stranger approached. Each yelled the dreaded killing curse, only to be surprised as the spells still didn't come. Their surprise didn't last long. Ducking low, the stranger slid within their guard and brought his knives up. The blades were embedded between two pairs of eyes, killing them instantly.

The silver-eyed stranger wrenched his knives from the two skulls before throwing one. The dagger flipped end over end until it stuck in a robed chest. The death eater cried out in pain before trying to pull the steel from his chest. His attempts were rendered redundant as a hand slammed into the handle palm first, forcing the knife into the rapidly beating heart. Within the same movement, the other knife slashed twice, cutting two more throats.

Leaving the knife stuck into the corpse's chest, the warrior sprung over the sixth raider. Landing behind him, the knife was brought up and across the man's neck. Flowing from the strike into a spin, twin bolts of vibrant green light flew from blood-drenched fists and struck two of the remaining three enemies, killing them instantly.

The last eater could only watch, frozen in fear, as the man approached him. Silvery green eyes bored into the masked face before the bloody knife was raised.

"Stop!" yelled Tonks, rushing forward. The blade halted in its descent as the shaggy head turned slightly. She could feel the intense scrutiny as she slowed to a walk, raisin her hands in a peaceful palms-out gesture.

"You got a reason to stop me from killing him?"

"Yeah...he could have valuable information. It was bloody brilliant how you were able to beat 'em, though."

A grunt answered her as the blade was rotated until the handle hung over the death eater. With a quick movement, the handle savagely impacted on the hooded skull. Tonks heard the sickening crunch as the , now unconscious, man crumpled to the charred earth. His work done, the stranger made to walk away.

"What's wrong, pup...you too bloody busy to greet your godfather?" The man stopped as Sirius' voice carried over the small battlefield. He slowly pivoted until their gazes locked. Tonks looked in between the two men confusedly.

"Um...Sirius?"

"You seem to think you know me." stated the warrior.

"Ah..." replied Black, "It may have been five years of Azkaban induced makeover, but I know your scent anywhere, Harry."

Tonks gasped as she shifted her focus to the man. She stared at his silver-green eyes before looking up at the famous scar.

"H-harry..." she breathed.

"Make one move, auror Tonks, and you'll join these pathetic lackeys." Harry rumbled, subtlety flashing his bloody knife.

"I know how you feel about aurors at the moment, Harry, but Tonks is on your side." declared Sirius, cutting through the tension. "Why don't you and me get out of here before the ministry shows up."

"How do I know that you won't tell anyone you saw me, Tonks?"

"Hmm..." mused Sirius. "Oh! How about an oath?" taking the stoic silence as an affirmative, he raised his wand and spoke clearly. "I, Sirius Orion Black, do swear on my life and magic that I will not betray Harry Potter. So mote it be."

As the resulting flash settled, Harry's gaze remained on the nervous form of Tonks. Catching the hint, she raised her wand.

"I, Nymphadora Andromeda Tonks, do swear on my life and magic that I will not betray Harry Potter or reveal his whereabouts. So mote it be."

Harry nodded before making his way to the line of bodies and yanking his knife from the masked corpse. A quick surge forced the blood from the blades, leaving them spotless. He slid the weapons into his sleeves and walked over to his godfather. Sirius gripped his shoulder and the pair vanished with a soft crack.

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

Harry's letter had quickly replaced the cloak as Hermione's comfort thing. In the two weeks since he'd left it, the only time it wasn't on her person was when she was in the shower. Obsessive? Maybe...but she really didn't care. This note proved that Harry loved her and she wasn't about to let it go.

A soft pop pulled her from her reverie and she looked down at the small creature that had appeared.

"Yes, Dobby?"

"Excuse Dobby Harry Potter's 'Mione, but yous be having visitors."

"Who is it?" she asked, smiling at Dobby's designation for her.

"It bes Harry Potter's Dogfather and a 'Riddick', miss. Does yous be wanting Dobby to let them in?"

"Yes. Thank you Dobby." replied 'Mione, wondering who the hell this 'Riddick' character was.

The little creature bowed deeply before pooping away. She heard the door open, quickly followed by a high pitched sobbing. Jumping to her feet, Hermione rushed to the entry hall. What she saw brought tears to her eyes.

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

Standing outside Hermione's home, Riddick shifted nervously from foot to foot.

"You know? You usually don't get to see a hardened killer nervous about seeing a girl." laughed Sirius.

Harry glared at him as the door opened to allow them entrance. He was able to briefly glimpse a tastefully done hallway before he was tackled at the knees by a sobbing little creature. He looked down to see the tiny form of Dobby the house elf, who was sobbing so hard none of his words were discernible.

"Dobby? What the bloody hell are **you** doing here?"

More jumbled sobs answered him as a grasp drew his gaze to one of the doorways that lined the hall. Silver-green eyes met watery chocolate-brown. Sensing the shift, the still crying Dobby released his true master's legs and stepped back with a smile that spread from one over large ear to the other.

Harry rose to hes feet, only to be tackled to his back for a second time. This time, however, there was a soft pair of lips fused with his. His arms automatically surrounded her thin waist and pulled her even tighter against him. Both of them poured years of repressed feeling into their joined lips.

Sirius tapped Dobby on his tiny shoulder and gestured in the direction of the kitchen. Nodding so sharply his ears flapped, the little elf followed the wizard away from the reunited couple.

After a few minutes, the two lovers separated due to lack of oxygen and stared into each other's eyes. Slowly, they disentangled and got to their feet. Hermione gripped Harry's hand and pulled down the hall. They entered a cozy kitchen to find Sirius and Dobby sitting at the small table, drinking tea. Seeing them arrive, the hyper little elf hopped up from his specially made chair and poured two more cups.

"I was really starting to worry about suffocation, there for a minute." stated Sirius jovially as Hermione pushed Harry into a chair and sat on his lap.

"Yes, well...lost time and all that." she replied primly.

Dobby deposited their tea cups before them and returned to his seat. Harry picked up his cup and sipped slowly, savoring the taste.

"Ah..." he sighed, setting the cup down, wrapping his arms around Hermione's waist, and inhaling he scent of her hair. "Been a while since I smelled beautiful."

The others smiled warmly, 'Mione with slightly tinted cheeks as Harry pulled away from her brunette curls and looked around the table.

"What are you doing here, Dobby?" he asked, confused.

"Dobby is sorry, Master Harry Potter, sir. He will go."

"No, Dobby." interjected Hermione. "I think he is asking why you are working for me, keeping in mind my views on House elves."

"Oh." replied Dobby, regaining his seat.

"Well..."she started, "Not long after you were..."

"Locked up?"

"Yes...after that, Dobby found me at Hogwarts. He actually sat me down and explained that House elves need to be bonded to a person or a family to survive. Right, Dobby."

"Yes miss. Dobby thought that yous should know that before he told you of his master."

"Master?" asked Harry. "I thought that you were a free elf."

"Now. Dobby knew he would slowly die if he didn't have a master, so Dobby picked one."

"Who?" There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Harry's stomach as he saw Dobby's averted eyes.

"You, Harry. He bonded himself to you the night you freed him."

"But, I thought that the old goat-fucker hired you to work at Hogwarts."

"He dids, Harry Potter sir. Dobby knew that your Grangey would not like Dobby being bonded to yous, so Dobby accepted sos that he could still be close to his master."

"Then why are you here?"

"After Dumbledores and the Weezeys hurt Harry Potter, Dobby stopped working at Hogwarts. He knew that Harry Potter's dogfather had not betrayed him."

"Yeah. He came to live with me until Hermione here graduated, top honors of course. Good thing, too. I'd recently found out that that little piece of filth Kreecher had been running to my cousin, Narcissa Malfoy. He'd been leaking secrets to her. I immediately gave him clothes, but he wouldn't leave the house. Eventually, he chose to kill himself rather than leave his "mistress'" house."

"Ain't that a bloody shame?" droned Harry in a monotone.

"Yes, well after I'd gotten an apartment, Dobby came to work for me."

"Even though yous still tried to pay Dobby, miss." the elf shot with a wry smile that seemed incredibly strange on his disproportionate face.

"Sue me." Hermione replied, smiling.

Harry watched on, shocked, at the free banter between his elven friend and the woman in his lap. Dobby was demonstrating a side he'd never seen. The pair went back and forth for another three minutes, giving Harry time to connect some dots.

'That slick little bastard.' he thought, smiling, as it all came together.

"Hey, Dobby?"

"Why don't you drop the act?"

Sirius and Hermione, still seated in Harry's lap, stared at him strangely. Harry's gaze, however, was still locked on Dobby's shocked face.

"Dobby should have known that the great Harry Potter would be able to see through Dobby's disguise."

"Dobby..." growled Harry in his Riddick voice, while still staying some what pleasant.

"Alright, alright. Sunnuva bitch...didn't have to get so bloody serious on me, master."

"I'm Sirius..." come the quiet reply from the lord of house Black as he fainted. Hermione quickly followed suit, slumping into Harry's chest.


	6. Chapter 5: WTF

**A/N: **Hey everybody! Sorry for the long wait. I could give you many an excuse, but I was just unsure about the contents of this chapter. It ends a bit abruptly, but I wanted to get this out to ya'll. I can promise that the next chappie will include some more action and the reintroduction of a couple characters. Enjoy.

**What the hell?**

"I think you broke them, Dobby. And since 'Mione can't hear me at the moment...call me 'master' again and I'll cut your ears off."

"But...since you **are** my master, then I'll call you master." Dobby replied with a sly smile spreading across his face.

Harry growled as Hermione began to stir. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked around the room.

"I've just had the strangest dream, Dobby. Harry was back and you were speaking normally. No offense, of course."

"None taken. I know we house elves tend to be rather dense when it comes to the English language."

"Yeah..." a low voice growled in her ear, drawing her attention to the strong arms wrapped around her. Not to mention the...uh...wand underneath her bum. "And I **hope** Harry's back. 'Cause if not, then that would mean you're sitting on **another** man's lap...and I'd just hate to have to kill some poor fucker in a fit of blinding jealously."

With a slight squeal, Hermione whipped her head around to stare into a familiar pair of silvery green eyes. She relaxed instantly as she remembered where she was. That relaxation quickly vanished when she turned her hard gaze back to a suddenly wary Dobby.

"Oh shit, gotta go!" the elf declared with a sharp crack.

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

"Filthy half-blood!" bellowed an irate Draco Malfoy as he stormed into his ancestral home. After his parents had been 'accidentally' caught with friendly fire during a DE raid, young Draco had quickly assumed control of the family. Since then, he'd taken his father's place in Voldemort's inner circle. That had opened a treasure trove of information for him. Utilizing the qualities that had forced the Hogwarts sorting hat to put him in Slytherin house with, just a minuscule look, he quickly learned almost every vital fact about every high-ranking Death Eater. This happened to include the dark lord himself.

The history of Tom Marvollo Riddle was known completely by three people. These were Tom Riddle himself, Albus Dumbledore, and now...Draco Malfoy. Voldemort's blood status was a source of constant irritation for the Slytherin prince. To think...a pureblood of his social status was taking orders form a fucking half-blood bastard child!

"Bad meeting?" The lilting voice of his girlfriend drew Draco's attention to the second floor balcony. Ginny Weasley sent him a seductive smile as she gracefully descended the stairs. They'd secretly gotten together not long after she'd graduated from Hogwarts. She was a great boon to his cause, 'leaking' info on the Order of the Phoenix's activities and plans. He'd never really asked why she was helping his side, but had assumed it had something to do with a failed deal of the wizened old headmaster's design...based on her occasional grumblings. But, whatever the reason really was, he didn't care.

"I'm just sick and bloody tired of cow-towing to that filth. It's beneath me, as a pureblood and head of the Malfoy family to grovel before a half-blood. I should just destroy him and be done with it."

"Don't be daft." admonished the fiery red-head as she draped her arms around his neck and pressed her petite body against him. "He is still powerful, regardless of his blood status. Too powerful for you."

"I know dammit! But I've just about reached the end of my patience. Something needs to be done. The pureblood movement should be lead by a pureblood."

"True, and it will be. You just need to control yourself. His end will come soon enough."

"And how do you know that?"

"I've recently had a rather enlightening conversation with my brother. Apparently, Harry Potter has escaped from Azkaban."

Draco released small moan as her soft lips grazed his neck. Her purr of arousal was steadily melting **most** of his tension. "And what does that mean? Do you think that scar-head can stop the dark lord?"

"No. No I don't. However, I believe that they will be able to weaken each other. Enough for you to kill them both. Voldemort knows the prophecy about Harry. He believes that Harry is the only one who can destroy him. This helps you in several ways."

Her subtle grinding was diverting blood flow from Draco's brain. Enough remained, however, to give him the mental faculties to ask "What...ways...are those?"

"Mmmmm...Voldemort will not worry about anyone else. He's become overconfident in the last five years. He's soft. You're not...in more ways than one. With Potter free, he'll begin to let fear rule his actions, which will make him sloppy."

"Which will lead to his downfohhh..." his statement was interrupted by a delicate thrust of Ginny's hips, which put more pressure on his remaining 'tension'.

"Yessss..." she hissed in reply, "which will give you your chance to destroy the two of them. To finish this and gain your rightful place, the timing must be purrrfect."

A growl slipped from his throat as she purred against this pulse point. Sliding his hands down and cupping her rear, he picked her up and carried her to his room. Needless to say, the Malfoy house elves were about to have a mess to clean up.

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

"Oi! Anyone home?" bellowed a head of vibrant red hair from Hermione's fire place. A sharp crack answered him as Dobby popped into view.

"Yes, Wheezey twin. Dobby is here. What can Dobby be doing for yous?"

Before the head could answer, Hermione's voice sounded from the direction of the kitchen.

"Dobby...get your arse back in here!"

"Ooh...it appears as though our dear miss Granger is a might upset."

"Oh yes. Miss 'Mione is quite angry with Dobby. Did yous want to be coming through?"

"Against my better judgment, yeah." a second later, the twins stepped from the emerald flames. They followed the wary elf out of the sitting room and into the kitchen. The two burst out laughing when they saw Sirius out on the floor, his legs hanging over his head. Their laughter halted when the third occupant of the room, seated comfortably under Hermione's rear.

"Well bugger me sideways..."

"And call me Sally."

"Sorry boys..." the man rumbled, laughter evident in his deep voice. "but wasn't in prison long enough for that to be appealing."

"Harry!" the twins cried happily, rushing over and pulling Harry to his feet, which resulted in Hermione falling on her butt. Harry, ensconced in a stereo Weasley bear hug, could only watch as the steadily angrier woman slowly got up.

"Uh...guys?" when they looked up at him, he tilted his head in Hermione's direction. Looking over, the twins immediately blanched and ducked behind Harry's wide frame.

"Okay..." Hermione started, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, "I suggest that everybody have a seat. You too, Dobby."

The elf in question, who had been slowly tip-toeing from the room, sighed and went to his specially made chair as the others took their seats. Hermione enervated Sirius who groggily got to his feet and sat down heavily in his vacated chair.

"Now...I do believe you have some explaining to do."

"All he did was let us through the wards. Surely you can't be angry at him for that." declared Fred, only to be silenced by the harsh glare sent his way.

"Dobby..."

"Fine. Fine. Bloody **hell** you're a scary woman." Dobby said with an exasperated sigh. "When a house elf bonds to a single master, our personalities change depending on the person. When the wizard or witch in question sees us as simple servants, and most do even if they treat us well, then wes be speaking wrong sos that wes won't be seeming equal. Howecer, then the person **sees** as equals, our speech becomes much better."

"So why are you so brash?"

"Hey, that isn't my fault. Ask your bloody chair. His personality is what mine is based off of."

"Wait a bloody minute here." demanded Harry as Sirius enervated the twins, "Why didn't you break me out of Azkaban, and don't say I didn't..."

"You didn't ask."

"Dammit."


	7. Chapter 6: tada

**A/N:** Hey ya'll. Long time no see. I'd apologize for the incredibly long update time, but I won't apologize for something out of my control. As it turns out, my muse decided that it needed a younger, more attractive author. Since it left, i've been trying my best to ploug along. This is the result of that. I'm not completely happy with it, but I knew that my life was hanging by an increasingly thin threadthe longer it took. Luckily, I've recently met a new muse. Unluckily, it is focused on a new story idea for the moment. I will endeavor to shift the attention, but it may take a little bit of time. Fear not, this story will be finished. until next time, enjoy.

**Ta-da**

"Arthur!"

Arthur Wealsey sullenly rose his head to see none other than Hermione Granger standing in his office. He hadn't seen the young woman since his daughter's graduation (not that she'd been there to support the youngest Weasley, of course). Even more shocking were the three people behind her.

Sirius Black stood tall and proud, his face actually smiling. The lord of the Black family was his brazen old self. Not the broken man that had taken his place when his godson was imprisoned. Arthur couldn't help but wonder why the man was in such a good mood, even with Harry's recent...exodus... from Azkaban.

The real shocker, however, came from the presence of his twin sons. Fred and George hadn't even written him in years, and here they were. Their faces still held those mischievous grins as they gazed at their father.

"Boys...Hermione...Sirius. Its been too long. Why are you here?"

"Actually, Dad..." started Fred.

"We're only here..." continued George.

"So that we can hear the answers to **his **questions." they finished together, both pointing to a spot behind him.

"And I **will** get my answers." rumbled a voice right next to his ear. Even through the schooled bass and rasp, Arthur could recognize the voice of any one of his children, be they by birth or choice.

"Harry..."

"That's Riddick to you."

"Riddick?"

"Good boy. Now...you're gonna tell me why you let me get shipped off to Azkaban."

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

_And he tells me. He tells me about the old goat-fucker coming to the Burrow. Tells me about the impassioned speech on how I'd killed Cedric. Of course Mr and Mrs Weasley would believe Dumbeldore. Only person I've seen more loyal to the geezer is Hagrid._

_I want to believe him. I really do, But I was fucked over pretty bad. Part of me wants to slit his throat, but I can't without knowing the truth. Luckily, I have an ace up my sleeve._

_**--oo00HPR00oo--**_

"I'm calling in the debt your family owes me, Arthur." Riddick said, voice harsh. "We all know that a debt owed by one member of the family can be claimed through another. You tell one lie until I release you, the magic will kill you. Do you understand?"

"Yes." The red head immediately straightened as the magic flowed through his body.

"Was it Albus Dumbledore who convinced you and your wife that it was Harry Potter that murdered Cedric Diggory?" Hermione overtook the interrogation, enunciating each question for maximum accuracy and minimum chance for loopholes.

"Yes."

"Did you truly believe that Harry Potter was guilty of killing Cedric Diggory?"

"N-yes."

"Did you or did you not believe he was guilty of killing Cedric Diggory?"

"Neither before, nor after the trial."

"Then why did you not speak in his defense?"

"I don't know."

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

Hunt Log: day 28

Been two weeks since that fucker ghosted my team. He thinks that its over, that he scared me off. Little prick was right about one thing, though. Went with a seven-man team this time. Even managed to hook up with some kinda magic hit man outa London.

When I find Riddick this time, his ass is grass.

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

"I can't believe it!" declared Hermione as they flooed back into her flat.

"What's not to believe?" growled Harry. "That Mr and Mrs Weasley were put under compulsion charms? Or that that motherfucker Dumbledore would actually use them like that?"

"Both! Neither! I don't know."

"What do we do now?" asked the twins simultaneously.

"I think it's time I pay a visit to an old friend." rumbled Riddick.

"Who are you-" started Hermione, turning to find him gone.

"How does he-"

"Do that?"

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

It had been a month since the note was carved into his desk. A month since he'd hired that bloody muggle to hunt Potter down. With no word of success, it was safe to assume that rookie auror Weasley was...how to put this diplomatically...scared shitless.

"That's what I get for hiring a muggle." he muttered.

"Good..." came the deep voice he'd been dreaming of for the past month. "That answers one question. That means we'll be done that much sooner."

Ron spun to see nothing. A relieved sigh escaped his lips as he dropped into his seat and tried to dispel the violent shivers that continued to travel his spine. The same shivers that only increased as a cold, sharp edge grazed his throat.

"Hey, mate..." came the voice from next to his ear. "How've you been?"

"H-harry?"

"That's right. Though I tend to go by Riddick these days."

A small cut appeared on Ron's neck as his nervous gulp expanded his throat.

"W-why are you here?"

"Ah-ah, mate. I'm asking the questions here. Number one...why did you betray me?"

"D-dumbled-dore promised that me and G-ginny would get your money when you went to Azkaban."

"I thought we were friends, Ron."

"Please..." a malfoy-esque cockiness worked its way into the word before the knife dug a little deeper into the warm flesh of his neck. "You weren't worth being friends with. Mr. Nobility. Mr. Humble. It was pathetic. The plan was to, originally, use you as a springboard in celebrity status, but you were to weak to use your fame. Therefore, neither could I."

"Then why did you stay around me for so long?" The anger in Riddick's voice was cold. So cold that the very air seemed to frost.

"Simple...I pitied you."

Ron was wrenched around to stare into the other man's eyes. Gone was the green. Gone was the white. Gone was the black. All that was left was a screen of solid silver. The surface was so perfect that Ron saw his own terrified eyes in the reflection.

He knew that he was going to die. This was not Harry Potter. This was Riddick. There was no chance of forgiveness by this man. The shivers intensified as the knife was raised to his temple. He felt the impossibly sharp point pierce his skin ever so slightly. His eyes closed as tears leaked from underneath the lids.

"Please...don't." he whimpered.

"Why not, Ron?"

No answer came as the auror degraded into a pathetic mass. The tears flowed even as the knife was reverently removed.

"No..." Riddick drawled, catching Ron's attention. "Not today. Watch your back, Weasley. I **will** come back for you."

He turned and walked out of the cubicle, leaving the quivering man to drown in his own tears. Eventually, Ron composed himself and dashed out into the corridor. There was no sign of Riddick and the auror, sighing in immense relief, returned to his desk.

As he sat down, the young auror cautiously glanced around. He dropped his head onto his desk and closed his eyes.

"Remember...I can **always** find you."

The ghostly voice echoed through Ron's cubicle as he head shot up and whipped around.

Nothing.

Fear washed over him, trying to drown him in its dark depths. The flood left his mind with only two possible choices. Riddick had managed to infiltrate the ministry on Merlin knows how many occasions. He, one of wizarding Britain's most wanted, had simply strolled through the auror forces to speak to him. If the fugitive could casually enter one of the most secure places in Britain, then how could anything stop him. Thus his choices were to a) hide in fear and wait for the eventual retribution or b) take the chance from his 'best mate'.

He chose the latter.

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

She groggily awoke to see a pair of red eyes staring back at her. Her gaze swiveled around the dank dungeon, for no other word could be used to describe the stone walls and barred windows.

"Well, well my little seer. It seems as though you are finally awake." The voice was filled with a cold power. Normally, the words of Lord Voldemort could bring anyone, shivering, to their knees. However, she smiled serenely as her senses detected fear.

"So it does...May I ask you why you have brought me here, Mr. Riddle?"

"You will **not** address me by that filthy muggle name!" hissed the dark lord.

"Very well then," came the calm reply, "but you have not answered my question."

"I haven't, have I?" Voldemort was understandably nonplussed at her lack of fear, but kept it hidden. "You, my dear, are here to assist me. I know of your abilities, and I want you to tell me how this war shall end. Look into the future, and tell me of my victory."

"I'm afraid it doesn't work quite like that, my lord. The future is not fixed. I see possible outcomes of probable events. I see the odds, I guess one could say."

"You **will** tell me what you see, woman!" he seethed, pulling his wand.

"My abilities, as you put it, would be of no use to you if obscured by pain, my lord. I suggest you refrain from torturing me."

Voldemort was openly shocked at her quiet bravado. His wand tip drooped as he stared into the wide eyes...eyes without a hint of his accustomed to fear. Eventually, he reinstated his usual imperious facade.

"Very well then. Tell me what you see...or we shall pay a visit to your precious husband. I believe he works for the ministry as a creature handler, correct?"

"You can believe whatever you wish, my lord. Who am **I** to tell **you** what is right and what is wrong. What I can tell you, however, is that the one you seek will be departing from the Ministry of magic in thirty minute's time."

With out another word, the Dark Lord turned and swept out of the cell, cloak billowing behind him.

"To pursue my husband, Mr. Riddle," she sneered quietly, "is to pursue an arse-whooping of grand proportions. You shall learn this soon."

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

_Can't fucking believe it. I couldn't do it. All that time spent dreaming about it. All that time waiting for the chance, and I couldn't fucking kill him. Oh well. Doubt that the bloody prat'll last two months before he either goes crazy with fear. Or kill himself. Figured a stroll through a nearby wizarding park on the way back to Mione's would help clear my head. A slight obscuring charm lets me enjoy the sun without fear. Been a long while since I've just stared at the sky. Oh...looks like it won't happen yet._

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

Draco sneered as he as he took in the tattered appearance of Harry Potter, aka Riddick. The robes dirty and shredded. The hair even more wild than before.

"Pathetic. Crabbe, Goyle." His two favorite flunkies turned their dull gazes towards their leader. Seeing his signal, they charged out into the open clearing that their target had just entered. Not one to dirty his hands when not necessary, Draco remained in the shadow of the trees to watch as Potter was surrounded by his twenty-strong ambush party.

"Potter!" declared nameless DE number ten, put in charge of the ultimatum. "Our master has demanded one of the two things. Your presence before him...or your death. Choose now."

The decision never came as loud 'Fumpf's sounded throughout the clearing. Each and every member of the DE team slumped to the ground.

"You've been a hard tag, Riddick." The voice came from a scraggy man in muggle clothes as he stepped from the tree line. Draco's eyebrows rose critically at the name, but any further introspection was postponed as Potter spoke, his voice deep and raspy.

"Toombs. I thought we had an agreement."

"Sorry, kid. I didn't agree ta shit!"

"You shoulda let it be, Toombs."

"Sure..." As the two exchanged comments, six other people cautiously walked into the clearing and surrounded Potter in a loose circle. They all wore muggle tactical clothing and carried long, metallic weapons.

'Guns.' thought Malfoy. 'Filthy, barbaric muggles.'

"I see you got a new crew, Toombs. Did ya tell 'em what happened to the last one?"

"Wait a bloody minute!" declared one of the individuals with a clear British accent. "That's Harry Potter!"

"Ah...a wizard. You're learnin' Toombs."

"Won't matter. You ain't usin any a those magic tricks this time. Now put your hands up."

Potter slowly rose his arms, showing his bare arms to all.

"Nothing up my sleeves."

With that, the boy-who-lived erupted into action. Bringing his hands to his waist, he pulled two silver objects from what seemed like nowhere. Before any of the muggles could move. Riddick's hands flashed out to the sides. The two mercenaries to his left and right reared back, silver knives lodged in their throats. Not waiting, Riddick began to turn his upper body while keeping his feet still. Each time his shoulders lined up with opposite adversaries more blades were pulled from what seemed like invisible pockets and hurled. Pairs of mercenaries died in a clockwise pattern until only Toombs was left. His planted rotation having forced his knees to collapse, Riddick finished his move in a low crouch as the last blade buried itself in the muggle's heart.

The man called Toombs lay sputtering on his back, the sharp blade lodged in his chest. Potter slowly rose from the twisted crouch and made his way to the dying mercenary. Looking down into the rapidly paling face, he gave a pitying shake of his head.

Placing one palm on his lower abdomen and the knuckles of the other hand on his lower back, Potter gave a deep bow from the waist before uttering a formal "Ta-da" before disappearing.

"Hmm..." was all the comment Draco made before reviving his assault group and dissapparating.

**A/N:** And there you go. I hope that Ron's fate is satisfactory to all. I tried to, while still personifying Riddick, keep the essence that is Harry Potter. Later.


	8. Chapter 7: The final Stretch

**A/N:**Holy Shit! A post in under three weeks...I think. Oh well, here is the next chappie. As the title says, we are in the final stretch. I'm thinking that another chapter after this and then a epilogue and that will be it. Before the chapter begins, I'd like to take a moment to ask for a moment of silence for a fallen comrade. As some of you may know, I actually write out my chapters on paper before typing them. Since the beginning of my fanfiction career, I have been using the same mechanical pencil. It was this blue bic that produced everything you've read until the middle of this chapter. Unfortunately, my trusted friend and coworker has passed on to the next great adventure. So please, a moment to remember a great pencil...

...

...

...

Thank you. And now...

**The Final Stretch**

"I don't fucking believe it!" Sirius' bellow tore through Grimmauld place, immediately bringing the other two occupants tumbling down the stairs in various states of undress. Harry and Hermione had moved into the Black family home after Riddick's...'visit'... to the ministry. Sirius had explained some of the protections inherent with the old structure. All involved believed that, until everything was settled, living in the ancestral home was for the best.

"Sirius! What's wrong?" asked Hermione, trying to straighten the over sized green muscle-shirt on her slender frame.

"That bastard." mumbled the ex-fugitive, ignoring the half-naked people in front of him and glaring at the paper in his hands.

"What?" growled harry.

"Read for yourself."

The couple leaned over the angrily discarded Daily Profit. The headline brought out a growl from them both as Dobby walked in, having just woken up from a commanded nap.

"What's going on?" asked the little elf.

"_**Boy-who-lived exonerated!**_" read Hermione, drawing a slight gasp from Dobby.

"_**At a press conference last night, Supreme Mugwump and Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, announced the boy-who-lived's innocence. 'Recent evidence has indeed proven that Harry Potter was not guilty of murdering fellow student Cedric Diggory five years ago. With further interrogation of recently captured death eaters, it was revealed that fugitive Peter Pettigrew was the true culprit. As supreme mugwump of the wizengamot, I happily pronounce Harry Potter cleared of all charges. I also invite Mr. Potter to Hogwarts, should he read this news, for a much over due discussion at his earliest convenience."**_

As she finished reading, all eyes turned to Harry. Only...it wasn't Harry standing there. The green eyes were a sheen of solid silver as his fists clenched to a knuckle-whitening tightness.

"That bloody, shriveled-up, ball-sucking piece of shit." Riddick's voice was colder than a Dementor's touch as he turned to leave, only to be halted by a soft hand landing his bare shoulder.

"Harry. I know you're upset. I know you plan to kill the bastard. Frankly...I don't blame you. But, before you do, let's let him explain. I want to hear his reasons first."

The tension in Riddick's body eased slightly at Hermione's words. Slowly, he turned and nodded as they climbed the stairs to their room to dress.

"I know this probably a stupid question..." started Dobby as the young lovers left the kitchen, "but isn't it a good thing that Harry's free. Why is everyone so upset?"

"Because this proves that Dumbledore was fucking Harry over. My cousin Tonks is an auror. She would have told us if the 'evidence' had actually been gathered. This is just part of the old man's plan."

"Ah...well this should be an entertaining conversation."

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

"All for the greater good." muttered Albus Dumbledore as he idly stroked his beard.

Sitting behind his desk at Hogwarts,the aged Headmaster glanced around his spacious office. His eyes fell on the empty perch that had once held his familiar. The phoenix, Fawkes, had left him not long after Harry Potter had been sent to Azkaban. Albus was not worried, however, for he knew that the boy would need the vold persona placed on him at the wizard's prison to save them all. Eventually, all would see that was for the greater good, and Fawkes would return.

"Dumbledore..." The low growl pulled Albus form his reverie and he looked to a particularly shadowy corner of the office. Standing there was none other that Harry Potter. Using his glasses, charmed to see through invisibility, Albus was able to spot no less than ten knife sheathes on the younger man's person. At least five of those carried what looked like multiple throwing knives.

"Harry, my boy!" declared the headmaster exuberantly. "I do believe that your father would not be too happy to see what you've done with his invisibility cloak."

"I don't give a fuck, old man. And it's Riddick to you."

"Ah, yes...Your alias. I've heard the stories of your deeds while in prison. I must say that your actions have disappointed me."

"You have ten seconds to tell me why I shouldn't kill you."

"Very well...Please, take a seat." Dumbledore graciously gestured to the armchair near the desk. He frowned when the shady figure remained stock still. Undaunted all the same, he resumed his grandfatherly smile and cleared his throat.

"Ahem. To begin, I would like to apologize for the necessity of your imprisonment. You see, it was..."

"Necessity?" interrupted Riddick, his growling becoming harsher.

"Yes. Twenty years ago, a prophecy was made. It foretold of a child that would be born to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. A child that would be born as the seventh month died."

"Me."

"In all actuality, the two choices were you or Mr. Longbottom. However, the next part of the prophecy stated that 'the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal'. That mark on your brow proves that you are the one to defeat Voldemort."

"If you knew that..." asked Riddick, having temporarily forgotten his imposed time limit. "Then why the bloody fuck didn't you train me?"

"That was part of the plan, Harry. However, to teach you what you needed, I felt it was necessary for you to have a certain...temperament, if you will. The skills to defeat Voldemort are very...intense. I needed you hardened (wink) before you could learn them. I needed a cold survivor."

"Which is why you stuck me with the Dursleys."

"Indeed. I had hoped that their dislike of you would have hardened (wink-wink) you. Your first day at Hogwarts revealed that hope to have been unfulfilled (giggity-wink). Instead of the lone wolf, you were a weak and humble child.

Fate seemed to favor me, however. For that very year, Lord Voldemort infiltrated the school in an attempt to obtain the sorcerer's stone. I realized this was an opportunity to turn you into the warrior we needed. Keeping that in mind, I fed you the clues to guide you to the final confrontation. What I did not count on was Hermione Granger."

"She kept me grounded."

"Yes. I tried to influence your growth (giggity-giggity), but Ms. Granger kept you soft (OH!). Second year, I'd hoped that by allowing her to be petrified by the basilisk, it would force you to work by yourself. It took a rather powerful compulsion charm to convince her to skip that Quidditch match, especially considering her perfect attendance to every game after the two of you became friends."

"But she still managed to help me."

"Damn straight I did." Dumbledore threw a shocked glance to the the door to see four people and one elf. The Weasley twins, Sirius Black, and one incredibly pissed off Hermione Granger glared back at him in defiance. Looking lower, he recognized the elf as Dobby. This was impossible! He should have sensed their entrance, regardless of the means of travel."

"Dobby. I never gave you permission to enter this office. Let alone bring guests."

"Tough shit, Dimbledore." spat the little elf, shocking the old man again.

"Hmm...Regardless. Yes, Ms. Granger. I underestimated your devotion to Harry."

"What about me?" asked Sirius darkly.

"Yes, yes. By the end of your second year, Harry, I'd noticed the distraction that was Ronald Weasley. Using my connections, I allowed the Weasleys to win the wizarding lottery. It was rather simple to convince them to visit Egypt for the summer. Meanwhile, I talked the minister into visiting Azkaban for an 'inspection'. Knowing his tendency to gloat, I made sure that you, Sirius, would see the photograph of the Weasley family and young Ronald's 'pet'."

"Why did you send our family out of the country?" the twins simultaneously inquired, their anger clearly evident.

"To prevent Sirius form simply breaking into the Burrow to kill Pettigrew."

"Why?" snarled Riddick.

"It was my hope that you would confront him and kill him when you learned that he betrayed your parents. While dim, Minister Fudge would not be so stupid as to reveal such information under normal circumstances. Especially in a crowded pub full of gossip-prone children.

The incident with the Firebolt was also of my design. When the broomstick arrived at breakfast, I was able to make eye contact with Ms. Granger. Through that contact, I was able to compel her to contact Minerva behind your back. I knew that she would never go around you with out that compulsion. Subsequently, after you killed Sirius, I would reveal the truth, and you would begin to close off in guilt, thereby pushing Ms. Granger even farther away."

"What about the tournament?" asked Hermione, eyes cold with fury.

"Yes. I knew that the Moody that arrived at Hogwarts was a fraud. Veritaserum and an obliviation allowed me to learn Voldemort's plan. When your name was chosen from the goblet of fire, I again made surreptitious eye contact with one of your friends. This time, however, it was Ronald. It did not take much compulsion at all to convince him that you'd managed to enter the tournament and not include him. I had theorized that being abandoned by your best friend would force you into the cold persona needed.

I once again underestimated you, Ms. Granger. The two of you became closer, thereby keeping Harry firmly in the light. When the yule ball was announced, I called you to my office. The both of you."

"I don't remember that."

"That is because I obliviated you Harry. After I placed compulsion charms to prevent either of you from asking the other to the ball. It was a blessing in disguise when Hermione was asked by Victor Krum. A contending champion and equally famous individual helped to drive a wedge between the two of you. When my fellow judges decided that Hermione would was to be his hostage in the second task, I was thrilled.

I allowed the junior Crouch to guide you to his master. It was very unfortunate that you felt the need to assist Mr. Diggory. When the two of you vanished from the maze, I thought my plans ruined. You had shared the glory. You had been entirely noble. When you returned from the graveyard with is body, however, I knew what had to be done. Once you were brought in for underage magic, the charges of Mr. Diggory's murder were brought against you. I knew that only Azkaban could harden you.

However, after five years, I was beginning to believe my plan a failure. With what I see standing before me, it is obvious that you are finally ready to receive your training."

"So you expect me to just follow you. You fucked me over, you bastard!"

"It was all for the greater good, Harry. I regret that had to suffer, but we needed you cold."

"If you have the knowledge and power to defeat Voldemort..." began George/Fred.

"Then why didn't you just kill him yourself?" finished Fred/George.

"There was a prophecy that named me as the only one."

"Indeed. So, we really must begin your training, Harry. Voldemort must be stopped."

The old man barely flinched as a knife impacted into the nose of his portrait right behind him, grazing his ear on the way past.

"Listen here you fuckin' piece of shit. The only thing your going to do is die."

Before Riddick could take one step, however, the office door slammed open. All were surprised to see Neville Longbottom storm in, face red.

"Harry! I need your help!"

"What is it, Nev?"

"Voldemort's got Luna! I need you to help me get her back!"

Growling, Riddick turned to leave. He allowed the others out of the door before turning back.

"I don't need training, arse hole. I'm gonna kill Riddle and rescue Luna. After that, you **will** die."

As Riddick vanished out the door, a pleased smile spread over the old lips.

"For the greater good."

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

She delicately rolled her eyes as the door to her cell clanged open and the dark lord glided in.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Does Potter know my location. He somehow managed to find me before, but does he know where I am now?"

"As I have stated, my lord, I only see o..."

"Yes! Yes! I know! Then tell me, damn you. What are the odds that my location is still a secret?!"

"The odds are good, my lord..." she began, seeing him relax before an explosion rocked the walls. "that he knows **exactly** where you are."


	9. Chapter 8: The art of asswhup

**The art of ass-whup**

_My connection to Riddle lets me know where the fucker's hiding. I can tell that he has Luna. Don't know why, but he does. After leaving Hogwarts, Fred and George apparate to their shop for some 'supplies'. _

_I'm not even gonna try to convince Mione not to come. Luckily, I can eliminate any chance of a killing curse. She's changed though. As soon as we get to Grimmauld, she disappears into our room. Surprises the fuck out of me when she comes back out with a rapier and basilisk-hide armor._

_Tells me that she managed to get back into the CoS in her seventh year. She harvested every piece of that fucking snake. The real shock's the sword though. 'Fencing' is all she'll tell me._

_Dobby's gonna be a helluva lot of help in this fight. Little bugger comes out of the kitchen with two knives tied to his waist._

_To top it all off, the twins show up with a special treat._

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

"What the fuck are you doing with those?" demanded Sirius when Fred and George arrived with a large trunk and twin Desert Eagles strapped to their waists.

"Well, what can we say?" asked Fred.

"When it comes to toys..." continued George.

"Muggles know what they're doing." they finished simultaneously.

"What's in the trunk?" asked a skeptical Neville.

"Come and see for yourself."

The other occupants of the house approached the trunk with slight trepidation as George Lifted the lid. Inside was a black object that all but Neville recognized as a muggle assault rifle resting atop a pile of of egg-shaped objects attached to belts.

"Grenades?" asked Hermione, picking one belt of the explosives up.

"Yep! Along with a special little something for our elf friend. Still smiling, Fred reached into the bottom of the trunk and withdrew an eight-inch long, silver tube.

"No..." breathed the resident bookworm as she closely examined the open end of the silver device and the small green crystal locked into place halfway down the interior. "There is no way."

"What?" demanded Neville, increasingly agitated at the lack of knowledge and action.

"We saw a movie last year. In it, a bunch of the characters had these swords made of light. Wicked dangerous. Could cut through almost anything." explained Gred.

"So...we figured that, maybe, we could make a copy using magic." added Forge.

"Unfortunately, nothing we could think of would make the bugger work."

"So we figured that perhaps Dobby could." they stated as Fred tossed the tube to the elf. As soon as the metal touched his skin, a two-foot length of green energy erupted from the end. Dobby's wide eyes became wider as he carefully swung the blade from side to side, everyone hearing the gentle 'whoosh'.

"Time to play a game." rumbled Riddick, smiling darkly.

"What game is that?" asked Hermione as she took one of the grenade belts the twins were passing out.

"Who's the better killer?"

--oo00HPR00oo--

It had been two days since the failed ambush on Potter, and Draco Malfoy was still aching from the Dark Lord's anger. The punishment was worse since he was the only death eater to have returned. Whatever the muggles had shot his team with had killed them instantly, leaving young Mr. Malfoy to take the full brunt of the consequences.

"Filthy half-blood." he muttered as he stormed through his ancestral home. After Potter had somehow infiltrate the Dark Lord's last lair, he had taken up residence in the Malfoy estate.

Throwing open his bedroom door, his anger dissipated slightly at the scene before him. Laying, scantily clad on his bed was his girlfriend. While he wasn't happy that Ginny had taken the dark mark a week ago, it was a relief to have her around more often.

"I've been waiting." she purred.

"I can see that." he answered. Before he could make any move toward her, however, multiple explosions sent dust from the rafters cascading on the platinum blond hair. Not long after, a cacophony of screams erupted from the lower floors.

"What the bloody hell was that?!" demanded the Malfoy heir as he turned and stampeded out of the room, followed closely by the red head. Reaching the top step of the grand staircase that led down into the Malfoy estate entrance hall, the couple could only stare in shock at the scene before them.

The front door was nothing but splinters and dust. Several death eaters were laying sporadically around the entrance hall, screaming in pain as they clutched missing body parts. Looking back to the obliterated door, they were frozen as the rest of the dark forces arrived.

Standing in the settling dust were seven figures. Ginny gasped as the red heads of her twin brothers came into focus. They were not their goofy selves. The smiles adorning their faces were dark. Resting in loosely clenched hands were some kind of silver weapons.

"Guns." she whispered, remembering her father's hobby.

Next to the twins was Sirius Black. The smile on his lips sent chills down the couple's spines. The long sword on his hip glinted in the sunlight that that filtered through the doorway. The long black weapon in his hands seemed to vibrate in anticipation.

If Black's smile was spine chilling, then the anger on the face of Neville Longbottom could freeze the fucking sun solid in fear. The daggers on his belt held nothing over the translucent skin pulled across the massive clenched fists. Neither Malfoy nor Ginny had realized how much Neville had truly changed until this moment.

The last two people in line were none other than Hermione Granger and Harry bloody Potter. Granger was actually making Malfoy drool. She was wearing a skin-tight, acid-green suit of some kind of material that hugged a mouth-watering body. The ornate rapier on her shapely hip shined with a deadly light. Potter was wearing the same out fit Malfoy had seen him in two days ago. His silvery eyes shifted from person to person as his body tensed.

"Merlin!" exclaimed Ginny quietly. "He's gorgeous!"

Malfoy scowled as he tried to see any weapons on the boy-who-lived. Not seeing any, his eyes slid down to the final member of the group. The gray orbs widened in shock as he recognized his old house elf, Dobby. The little elf held a sadistic smile as he deftly twirled a silver tube.

"Potter!" shouted one of the cloaked men in the hall, pulling his wand. Hearing the exclamation, all of the focus shifted to the aforementioned man.

"Where the fuck his my wife?!" demanded Longbottom.

"It doesn't matter, blood-traitor. You won't live to see her. Avada Kedavra!"

Time seemed to stop as everyone waited for the deadly streak of green light. When it never came, a chuckle rumbled through the packed hall. All eyes locked on Potter for a second time as he pulled two daggers from seemingly nowhere. The blades curved from the handles clenched in his fists, down in front of his fingers and past his hand. Various metallic noises emanated from the group as several weapons were pulled. A green light erupted from the house elf's silver object, accompanied by a ominous hum.

"Gentlemen!" declared Dobby in a proud voice, expertly twirling the emerald light. "Let us introduce you to the art of ass-whup."

And thus...the slaughter began.

--oo00HPR00oo--

Lord Voldemort winced as the screams from his followers filtered down to the dungeon. His body was frozen in fear, his eyes focused on the ceiling.

"It appears as though Mr. Potter and my husband have arrived, my lord." Luna's voice pulled the dark lord from his thoughts and he hurled a glare in her direction.

"They will stop when they see you held under my wand." he snarled.

"Believe what you will." was her reply as he gestured for her to precede him out of the cell.

--oo00HPR00oo--

Malfoy couldn't move. He couldn't look away from the spectacle before him. His eyes were riveted. Not even the ear-splitting reports from the muggle 'guns' and the sporadic explosions could break his focus. Black and the Weasley twins kept firing into the crowd of death eaters, not once coming close to hitting their comrades. Potter, Granger, Longbottom, and the filthy elf were cutting a bloody swathe through the sea of black cloaks.

Granger's rapier flashed to and fro with a deadly grace that seemed to radiate a soul-chilling beauty. She flowed from target to target, smoothly rending flesh and bone. What Malfoy now recognized as Basilisk skin armor was rendered useless since no spells were flying. The incantations were being spoken, but no energy came forth.

Potter was brutally efficient. The curved knives slashed and cut, sending geysers of ruby blood flying into the air. His arms never stopped, wrapping around his targets to reach the vital areas. But not even his fighting could match Longbottom's.

The once shy boy bulldozed through the Dark Lord's followers. The daggers on his hips hung, forgotten, as his fists collapsed skulls and caved chests. The blood of no less than ten men were already beginning to dry on his skin, forming a pair of macabre gloves.

It was the house elf that remained the most shocking, however. It seemed to be everywhere at once, the sizzling green beam cutting through whatever or whoever it touched. The stench of burnt flesh mixed with the sights and sounds of the battle to complete the disgusting display.

"Draco!" hissed Ginny, tugging on his arm desperately. "We need to hide. If we're goning to succeed, we must survive."

Malfoy remained comatose. Even as a silver blade erupted from his girlfriend's chest, he didn't move. Ginny gasped as blood entered her longs and tears flowed from her eyes. She managed to turn her head enough to see a mass of curly brown hair. Hermione Granger smiled back sweetly as she leaned into the dying girl's ear.

"That's what you get for fucking with **my** man, bitch!" she hissed as the red head's eyes closed for the last time.

It was the dark tone that finally pulled Draco from his frozen state. He turned to see Ginny bleeding out on the floor. Slowly, his eyes traveled up the green-clad body before him, taking the time to admire the curves before he reached the cold brown eyes.

"Hello, Malfoy. Sorry, but it seems as though **I** was the last one to...penetrate your little whore."

"Yeah," came a voice from behind him. "And I doubt that my master would like you staring at his woman. Not that it matters." Before his head could even turn, an impossibly hot...**something**...traveled the width of his neck. The last image his gray eyes recorded was the slightly sadistic smile that rested on the face of his former servant.

--oo00HPR00oo--

Tom Riddle's already pale face blanched even further when he bore witness to the slaughter in the Malfoy entrance hall. Every one of his minions were dead, their bodies in various states of mutilation.

"H-how?"

"You pissed of two **very** dangerous men, my lord." The easy comment from his prisoner jerked the dark lord from his shocked state. In a fit of anger, he banished the petulant woman into a nearby wall with a casual flick of his wand. Unfortunately for him, that simple act of retribution garnered him some...unwanted attention.

"Luna!" The angry Bellow instantly gathered Voldemort's full attention and he whipped around. Standing before him were five people. The source of the shout was large man who Riddle instantly recognized as the Longbottom brat. Standing beside him was the bane of the dark lord's ex forces, Harry Potter.

"Potter...I see you have finally decided to show yourself."

"That's a pretty confident tone, Tom-a-hack. Especially for a man standing in a puddle of his minions' blood."

The statement forced Riddle into looking down to see that was, indeed, where he was standing. Looking up, he was just in time to point his wand, tip glowing the green of the killing curse, at the unconscious form of Luna Longbottom. Thus halting the two men's approach.

"Take one more step and the woman di..." his threat was interrupted as a length of razor-sharp metal blossomed from his chest. He looked down to see a thin sword sticking out, coated in his own black blood. Immediately, he sent a burst of magic toward the body behind him. When he heard the person land, he turned to see Potter's mudblood bitch sprawled out on the ground, glaring at him hatefully.

"Did you **honestly** believe that **you** could destroy me with a muggle weapon? I am Lord Voldemort! I am immortal! I am the most fe..."

Any other proclamations were muted as two hands clamped on either side of his head. With his body remaining firmly planted, his head was wrenched around. Riddle could feel the bone and cartilage crack as his line of sight was reversed to line up on the silvery eyes of Harry Potter.

"You alright, Mione?" asked Riddick as the body of his enemy crumpled to the blood-soaked floor. The red eyes dimmed, never to see again as he stepped over to his lover.

"Yes. I'm just a little bit sore."

"Tell me about it." the declaration caused the couple to look in Luna's direction. Her face and arms held a deep, purple bruise as Neville helped her to her feet.

"It's over." sighed Hermione, wrapping her arms about Harry's neck.

"Over, it is not. One left there is. Hmm." Every one of the team threw quizzical and disbelieving looks at the house elf as he walked up . Their looks only deepened when they saw him hunched over, using the tube as a make shift cane.

"What?" asked Dobby, seeing their looks. "I know things!"

All eight of those still living looked at each other before laughing. Still chuckling, the group waded their way out of the mansion, leaving the bodies of the dark forces to rot.


	10. Chapter 9: Prophetic ending

**A/N:**And here we are ladies and germs. The final chapter. Actually...this is more of a wrap-up than a chapter, but whatever. Sit back and enjoy.

**Prophetic Ending **

_**The Daily Prophet**_

_**You-know-who dead!**_

_**By Ima Ryta**_

_Following an anonymous tip last night, Aurors and ministry officials raided the home of Draco Malfoy, head of the Malfoy family. What they discovered was as gruesome as it was exhilarating._

_Within the entrance hall, dead, lay none other that the Dark Lord himself, along with all of his followers. You-know-who was found with his neck broken amongst the bodies of no less than seventy death eaters._

_It has been confirmed that it was indeed He-who-must-not-be-named's body that was recovered. And while no one knows who is responsible for the liberation of the wizarding world, this reporter would like to send out her thanks to the boy-who-lived. Thank you, Harry Potter, where ever you are._

_Further details on the contents of the Malfoy manor on pg. 8_

_**Dumbledore's Secret Life**_

_**By Rita Skeeter**_

_Following the apparent suicide of rookie auror Ronald Weasley three days ago, recent actions by the so-called 'leader of the light' have come to light._

_Aurore Weasley's suicide note left detailed reports of Dumbledore's plot to imprison Harry Potter five years ago. However, when ministry officials attempted to question the headmaster, he was found dead in his Hogwarts office._

_Stranger still, though still not surprising to this reporter, was the predicament in which the Headmaster's body was found._

_Albus Dumbledore was found, naked, within a hidden goat pen within his office. Evidence suggests that, during certain...activities...he suffered from a massive heart attack that proved fatal. As this this reporter knows, everyone of her readers will remember certain charges brought before the supreme mugwump years ago. It seems as though those charges were indeed true._

_However, using an experimental technique, the department of mysteries was able to extract recent memories from Dumbledore's mind. These memories prove that he was manipulating young mr. Potter for most of his life._

_Charges of child abuse, neglect, and indecent exposure have been leveled against the deceased headmaster. Because of this, all of his awards have been stripped, albeit post-mortem._

_Subsequently, Harry Potter has been given an Order of Merlin, first class. Though he has not come forth to claim it. The ministry..._

"Mione?" The voice of her lover brought her attention from the newspaper in front of her. Looking up, she smiled at Harry's relaxed posture and contented grin.

"Yeah, Harry?"

"Why are you reading that trash?"

"What else am I to do at six in the morning?"

Her answer was a passionate kiss that led to...other things. Things that lasted the rest of the day.

**--oo00HPR00oo--**

"That's eight hours straight!" declared Dobby as the noises filtered down into the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld place. "Are they ever gonna stop?"

"Well, Dobby. Think about it. Harry killed everyone who was controlling his fate, gaining control of it himself. It's the same as some ancient warrior cultures. 'To the victor go the spoils.' 'Winner take all.'" Staring into space with an intense expression, Sirius let out a deep sigh.

"You keep what you kill."

**A/N:**And that is the end. Later...

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Okay, so there may be a sequel in the works. we'll see. For real though, I want to thank all of those that have stayed with me throughout this experiment-turned-epic. Later people.


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